My husband never knew this and now he will be impossible to live with on this day, demanding tomatoes at every meal, as well as snacks and desserts as a celebratory measure.  April 6th is National Fresh Tomato Day.  For 40 years he has planted enough tomatoes in our garden to feed the entire county.  To his credit, he has shared probably a literal ton with church members, neighbors, piano students, and doctors.  His favorite thing in the world is a platter of the things sliced several inches deep on the dinner table every night for as long as the season lasts.  And that means I have to do something with the ones that don't fit on that platter before they go bad.  So while the boys were still home, I canned forty quarts or more every year, plus a few pints of tomato sauce, plus tomato juice, and once or twice, even some ketchup and tomato jam.  All of those things involved a huge amount of work.
            Canning tomatoes is one of the more difficult garden season chores.  You wash each and every tomato.  You scald each and every tomato.  You pound ice blocks till your arms ache in order to shock and cool each and every scalded tomato.  You peel each and every tomato and finally you cut up each and every tomato.  Then you sterilize jars, pack jars, and process jars.  Only 7 jars fit in the canner at a time, so you go through that at least 6 times for canned tomatoes alone.
            And you will have more failures to seal with canned tomatoes than any other thing you can.  As you pack them in, pushing down to make room, you must be very careful not to let the juice spill over into the threads of the jar.  And just in case you did that heinous crime, you take a damp cloth and wipe each thread of each jar.  Tomato pulp will keep a perfectly good jar, lid, and ring from sealing.
            In order to have that many tomatoes you must be willing to cut up a few that are half-rotten, disposing of the soft, pulpy, stinky parts in order to save sometimes just a bite or two of tomato.  Now that there are only two of us, I usually limit myself to 20+ quarts.  I still put one in every pot of spaghetti sauce, one in every pot of chili, and one in every pot of minestrone, as well as a few other recipes, it’s just that I don’t make as many of those things as I did with two big boys in the house.  Now I can afford to be a little profligate.  If I pick up a tomato with a large bad spot, I am just as likely to toss the whole thing rather than try to save the bite or two that is good, especially if it is a small tomato to begin with.  Why go to all that work—washing, scalding, shocking, peeling, cutting up, packing—for a mere teaspoon of tomato?
            But isn’t that what God and Jesus did for us?  For narrow is the gate, and straitened the way, that leads unto life, and few are they that find it. Matt 7:14.
            The Son of God, the Lord of Lords, the King of Kings, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Phil 2:6-8.  And he did that for a half—no!--for a more than half rotten tomato of a world.  He did that to save a remnant, a mere teaspoon of souls who would care enough to listen and obey the call. 
            Sometimes, by the end of the day, when my arms are aching, my fingers are nicked and the cuts burning from acidic tomato juice, my back and feet are killing me from standing for hours, and I am drenched with sweat from the steamy kitchen, I am ready to toss even the mostly good tomatoes, the ones with only a tiny bad spot, because it means extra work beyond a quick slice or two.  Aren’t you glad God did not feel that way about us?  It wasn’t just a half rotten world he came to save, it was every half rotten individual in that world, of which you and I are just a few.
 
But what is God's reply to him? “I have kept for myself seven thousand men who have not bowed the knee to Baal.” So too at the present time there is a remnant, chosen by grace. Rom 11:4-5
 
Dene Ward
 

National Carrot Day was begun in 2003 in an effort to increase awareness of the beneficial compounds of carrots.  I am told it is celebrated around the world with carrot parties, featuring carrot dishes and guests dressed in orange or in some cases in carrot costumes.
            Carrots do far better up north than down here in Florida.  Whether it's the climate or the lack of nutrition in the sandy soil, I don't know, but we seldom bother planting them.  One year we did though, planting them late by Florida standards, so I was just pulling carrots the first week of June.  It wasn’t difficult; I pulled the whole row in about 15 minutes.  Still, it was disappointing—a twenty foot row yielded a two and a half gallon bucket of carrots that turned into a two quart pot when they were cleaned and sorted, cutting off the tops and tossing those that were pencil thin or bug-eaten.
            Then I thought, well, consider the remnant principle in the Bible.  Out of all the people in the world, even granting that the population was much less than it is now, only eight were saved at the Flood.  Out of all the nations in the world, God only chose one as His people.  Out of all those, only one tribe survived the Assyrians, and out of all those, only a few survived the Babylonians and only 42,000 of those returned to the land out of the 1,000,000 or so in Babylon.  What's that?  4.2%?
            Jesus spoke of the wide gate and the narrow gate.  Surely that tells us that though God wishes all to be saved, only a few will be.  So out of a twenty foot row of carrots, I probably threw out half.  Then we threw out a third of those that were too small to even try to scrub and peel.  Yet we probably did better with our carrots than the Lord will manage with people!  And I learned other principles that carrot-pulling day, too.
            When I pulled those carrots some of them had full beautiful tops, green, thick-stemmed, and smelling of cooked carrots when I lopped them off.  Yet under all that lush greenery several had very little carrot at all.  They were superficial carrots—all show and no substance.  Others were pale and bitter, hardly good for eating without adding a substantial amount of sugar.  Then under some thin, sparse tops, I often found a good-sized root, deep orange and sweet.  Yes, they were all the same variety, but something happened to them in the growth process.
            Some of us are all top and no root.  It always surprises me when a man who is so regular in his attendance has so little depth to his faith.  Surely sitting in a place where the Word is taught on a consistent basis should have given him something, even if just by osmosis.  But no, it takes effort to absorb the Word of God and more effort to put it into practice, delving deeper and deeper into its pages and considering its concepts.  The Pharisees could quote scripture all day, but they lacked the honesty to look at themselves in its reflection.
            And there are some of us who have little to show on the outside, but a depth no one will know until a tragedy strikes, or an attack on the faith arises, or a need presents itself, and suddenly they are there, standing for the truth, showing their faith, answering the call.  I knew one man who surprised us all with his strength in the midst of trial, a quiet man hardly anyone ever noticed.  Yet his steadfastness under pressure was remarkable.  I knew another who had been loud with his faith, nearly boasting in his confidence that he was strong, yet who shocked us all with his inability to accept the will of God, his assertions that he shouldn’t have to bear such a burden when he had been so faithful for so long.  Truly those carrot tops will fool you if you aren’t careful.  “Judge not by appearance,” Jesus said, “but judge righteous judgment.”  Look beneath those leafy greens and see where and how your root lies.
            Evidently the principles stand both for man and carrots.  Don’t count on your outward show, your pedigree in the faith.  Develop a deep root, one that will grow sweeter as time passes and strong enough to stand the heat of trial. 
            And don’t assume you are in the righteous remnant if that righteousness hasn’t been tested lately.  God hates more to throw out people than I hate to throw out carrots, but He will.  Don’t spend so much time preening your tops that your root withers.  And finally, only a few will make it to the table; make sure you are one of them.
 
Behold, I stand at the door and knock: if any man hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me. Revelation 3:20            
 
Dene Ward          

Several years ago I received a pot of rust colored chrysanthemums as a gift.  I enjoyed them for many days before they began to fade.
            “Well that’s that,” I thought as I placed them on the outside workbench so Keith could salvage the dark green plastic pot for other uses.  By the time he got to them, they were brown and withered, as dead looking as any plant I had ever seen.
            Keith cannot stand to throw things away.  “It might come in handy,” he always says as he pulls things out of the trash.  That is why he stuck those dried out flowers in the ground beneath the dining room window.  Yet even he was amazed when a few days later green leaves sprouted on those black stems.  It was fall, a mum’s favorite season, and before long I had twice as many as I had started with.
            Fast forward to Thanksgiving, a year later.  I now had a bed full of rust colored mums about two feet square.  The next year the bed was four feet wide and my amaryllises were swamped.  Keith built a raised bed about eight feet square, half of it for the mums and the rest for a plumbago, a miniature rose, and a blue sage.  That has lasted exactly one year.  The plumbago, rose, and sage have been evicted by the mums and need a new home.
            What started as one six inch pot of mums, withered and brown, has become 64 square feet of blooms so thick they sprawl over the timbers of the raised bed into the field surrounding it.  Whenever I cut an armful for a vase inside, you cannot even tell where I cut them. 
            We often fall prey to the defeatist attitude, “What can one person do?” Much to the delight of our Adversary we sit alone in the nursery pot, wither, and die.  Yet the influence we have as Christians can spread through our families, our workplaces, our neighborhoods, and our communities.  The good deeds we do, the moral character we show, the words we do—and don’t—say make an impression on others.  Those are the seeds we plant, never giving in to the notion that one person cannot accomplish anything.  The attitudes we show when mistreated and the peace with which we face life’s trials will make others ask, “Why?  Can I have this too?  How?”
            Plant a seed every chance you get.  If a six inch pot of dried up mums can spread so quickly, just think what the living Word of God shown through your life can accomplish.
 
And he said, How shall we liken the kingdom of God?  Or in what parable shall we set it forth?  It is like a grain of mustard seed, which, when it is sown upon the earth, though it be less than all the seeds that are upon the earth,  yet when it is sown, grows up, and becomes greater than all the herbs, and puts out great branches, so that the birds of the heaven can lodge under the shadow thereof, Mark 4:30-32.
 
Dene Ward

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it. (Matt 13:45-46)
            Over forty years ago we were given the granddaddy of all winter squashes.  It sat nearly two feet high on its belled bottom, but would have been much higher if the neck had been straight.  Instead the neck bent over and made a nifty handle to carry it by, which helped a lot since it must have weighed about twenty pounds.
            We really enjoyed that squash.  It was the sweetest winter squash we ever ate, and as long as you were eating on the neck, you could cut off what you needed and just cover the end with plastic wrap until the next time.  Only when you reached the bell did you need to go ahead and scrape out the seeds and cook it all.
            So last year we decided to look for seeds for that squash.  We are now living over a thousand miles south of where we lived back then, and we could not even remember the name of the person who gave it to us.  We sent letters up to old friends and they had never seen or heard of anything matching its description.  Turns out the name we thought we remembered was not really a name, either.  "King" squash was evidently someone's description of this behemoth which they considered the "king" of all squashes.
            So we gave up on the name and started reading descriptions in seed catalogues.  Most had nothing even close.  The same old butternut, acorn, and spaghetti squashes filled the catalogue pages.  Finally we found a catalogue that specialized in heirloom varieties.  They had something called a Cushaw that was long and weighed about the right amount.  The neck was straight and just as thick as the body, so that wasn't quite right, but it was the closest thing we could find.  So we ordered some seeds.  The color wasn't right when the vine finally bore fruit.  But we didn't give up on it until we had cooked it and eaten it.  This was not the "king" squash we had enjoyed so many years ago.
            So we tried again.  This time we scoured the internet.  A friend became interested and decided to help and he is the one who finally found it.  He didn't find it by the name "squash."  He found it by the name "pumpkin."  And we came to learn that there isn't one name for this vegetable, just several descriptions.  It's a "neck pumpkin" because of the long, curved neck, or it's a Pennsylvania Dutch crookneck squash, once again because of the curved neck, but also because of its origins.  I use it like squash and I use it like pumpkin, and it fits nearly any recipe for those things as long as you follow the cooking instructions.        
          Seems to me that the same things can be true of the New Testament church.  I know people who have found it, not by the sign by the highway, but by matching what it does with what the church in the Bible did.  Not by matching a creed, or a preacher, or even a "name," but by whether or not it followed God's law.  Just cut it open, take a taste and see.  If you go out looking for a name on a sign, you can still find the wrong thing.  If you look only at the outside, you can miss it altogether.  It's the inner workings, the body of Christ following its head, the bride of Christ in subjection to the bridegroom, the vine bearing the fruit of the Spirit, the building built on the proper cornerstone and foundation.
            It can be done.  I know people who have.  It's up to us to be that body, to match the description and taste like the real thing so that anyone who does come looking can find us.
 
But if all prophesy, and an unbeliever or outsider enters, he is convicted by all, he is called to account by all, the secrets of his heart are disclosed, and so, falling on his face, he will worship God and declare that God is really among you. (1Cor 14:24-25)
 
Dene Ward

Most people love them, and they have now become a health food, rich in antioxidants.  But if it weren't for Elizabeth Coleman White, you might never see them in your supermarket produce section, and only in a few roadside stands.  Blueberries are a native American crop, one you could only get wild.  Ms. White changed that.
            She was the eldest of four daughters, born on October 5, 1871, to Quaker parents who were cranberry farmers.  Elizabeth regularly left the house with her father and went to the bogs, learning how to grow cranberries, his only crop.  By age 22 she was an employee of her father's company, in charge of packing and shipping, and occasionally delving into agricultural research, working on eliminating the cranberry katydid among other things.
          But Elizabeth began wondering about growing blueberries.  Since cranberries were a fall crop and blueberries a summer crop, they would enlarge the growing season and the profits for the family business.  Commercial cultivation of blueberries had never been done successfully before.  Then she read an article called, "Experiments in Blueberries" written by a USDA botanist named Frederick Coville.  Her interest was piqued and, with her father's permission, she invited him to come to her farm and continue the experimenting with her. 
            She put out a call to all in her area to find whatever blueberry plants they could find in the wild.  Each one was named, usually after the man who found it.  Elizabeth and her crew chose the plants they thought could survive a transplant and produce.  In 1912, despite all the naysayers, White and Coville were successful, and in 1916, the team produced the first commercial crop of blueberries.
            Elizabeth eventually became known as "The Blueberry Queen" and in 1932, the state of New Jersey gave her an award for her "outstanding contribution to agriculture."  By the 1990s, blueberry production had reached 100,000,000 pounds a year (all information from New Jersey Monthly) and because of her work, we ourselves had twelve blueberry plants that served us well for three or four decades.
           All of which leads me to picking blueberries.  Every second morning in June I would step outside into the morning steam of dew rising off the grass—much different than Ms. White's New England climate--head and eyes shielded from the bright sunshine, carrying a five quart plastic bucket to our small stand of blueberry bushes.  It always amazes me how the morning temperature can be twenty degrees cooler than the afternoon’s, yet within minutes the perspiration is rolling from hairline to chin.  Even the dogs refused to accompany me, though a shade tree stands within mere feet of the blueberries.  They sat on the carport, their bellies flat against the still cool cement and watched, probably commenting to one another about how silly humans can be, especially Floridians.
            It was so uncomfortable one morning, and the blueberries so plenteous, their weight bending the boughs in deep arcs, that after the first half hour I became a little less careful in my picking.  Often as I reached deep into the interior of a bush where I had seen several plump, ripe, dusky blueberries hanging, I simply wrapped my hand around the clump and gently nudged each one with my thumb.  Berries that are ready to be picked will fall off the stem easily, and usually I pulled out a fistful of perfectly ripe ones.  Once in awhile though, a red one appeared in my palm, and even a white or green one.  Oh well, it certainly speeded up the process to pick that way, then toss out the bad ones, and it’s not like we had a measly crop.
            I wonder sometimes if we aren’t too careful in our attempts to reach the lost.  We have a bad habit of deciding who will listen before we ever start talking and our judgments are so different that the ones the Lord made.  He cast his nets into a polluted river, hoping to save as many dying fish as possible; we cast ours into the country club swimming pool, but that is another metaphor for another time.
            Sometimes we come across a blueberry bush with most of the berries still red, not quite ripe for the picking so we pass it by and leave a couple of big ripe ones, just begging to be put into the pie.  It is too much trouble to go after them one at a time.
            Other times we see a bush with quite a few plump ripe berries and instead of just reaching out and grabbing all we can, because there are a few not quite ready, we move to another branch.  No need picking a handful when we might need to throw out half of them.  And so we only reach for the easy ones, the ones that appeal to us because they look like the pictures in the cookbook and are easy to get to.  Those showing a hint of red at the stem end might take a little more effort, a little more sugar in the pie filling.  And because of that we miss some that would give our pie more flavor.
            In another figure Jesus told us to sow the seed wherever we could, not take the time to map it into suitable planting zones.  He said the world is ripe for picking.  “Don’t cast your pearls before swine,” is about people who have had their chance and rejected it, not about us judging another’s suitability to be our brethren.  Where would we have wound up if people had treated us that way?
            Go pick some blueberries.  Grab all you can and let the Lord decide which ones will make the best pie.
 
But when he saw the multitudes he was moved with compassion for them because they were distressed and scattered, as sheep not having a shepherd.  Then he said to his disciples, the harvest indeed is plenteous, but the laborers are few.  Pray therefore the Lord of the harvest that he send forth laborers into his harvest, Matt 9:36-38
 
Dene Ward

We have been passing a lot of things down lately, and that includes a lot of our garden paraphernalia.  Keith has reached the age that he no longer feels safe working for hours in the heat and humidity of an oppressive Florida summer.  One of the things he gave away was his backpack garden sprayer.  Before, he had two sprayers—one for herbicide and one for insecticide.  The backpack sprayer has become extremely uncomfortable to his shot-up shoulder so that is the one that was passed on to a couple who are just discovering the joys of gardening.
            So the first time he went out to spray the tomatoes and peppers for bugs, he forgot to rinse it out from the time before when he sprayed for weeds around the fence.  He never had to do that before.  That is why he had two sprayers.  So he went right out and sprayed my miniature rose and his first tomato.  That's when he smelled the herbicide.  Uh-oh.  Even if he had rinsed it out, the wand still had plant killer in it.  And that is exactly what happened.  The next morning I went outside and my little rose was brown and dead.  So were the tomatoes, but the rose had been a gift from a voice student 20 years before. 
            I doubt that will ever happen again, but that doesn't change the results.  Or so I thought.  A few weeks later I went out to water my flower beds during the unseasonable dry weather we were having, and as I bent over the rose I saw it—one tiny red leaf, the color of new growth on a rose.  A day or two later, another showed up.  And today I had two small rose blooms.  The rose had risen from the dead.  Not two weeks ago I had snapped off all but one brittle brown stem, and now it is thriving once again.
            Do you realize that is exactly the figure the New Testament uses of a person who becomes a Christian? 
            Or are you ignorant that all we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him through baptism into death: that like as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we also might walk in newness of life. For if we have become united with him in the likeness of his death, we shall be also in the likeness of his resurrection; knowing this, that our old man was crucified with him, that the body of sin might be done away, that so we should no longer be in bondage to sin; for he that hath died is justified from sin. But if we died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with him; knowing that Christ being raised from the dead dies no more; death no more hath dominion over him. For the death that he died, he died unto sin once: but the life that he lives, he lives unto God. Even so reckon ye also yourselves to be dead unto sin, but alive unto God in Christ Jesus. (Rom 6:3-11).
            Too many times we use this to teach our neighbors that baptism is an immersion.  What we need to focus on is that we are supposed to have died to sin and now live a new life, raised from that death to live a life unto God.  Paul was writing to believers when he wrote those verses.  I have no right to make excuses when I sin, not when I have the power of Christ's resurrection in my life.  Speaking of which:
            And you did he make alive, when you were dead through your trespasses and sins, wherein you once walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the powers of the air, of the spirit that now works in the sons of disobedience; among whom we also all once lived in the lusts of our flesh, doing the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest:— but God, being rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us, even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ (by grace have you been saved), and raised us up with him, and made us to sit with him in the heavenly places, in Christ Jesus (Eph 2:1-6).  Just as in Romans, you were dead, but now you have been made alive.  Live like it.
            We could go on and on with verses like these.  You may never have realized how many there are, in fact, but that in itself tells us how important this is.  It is also says, "There's no valid reason for having missed this, people!"  Just like my little rose, we were supposed to have come back to life at our baptism.  If we are still wallowing in the grave of sin, something is dreadfully wrong.
 
If you died with Christ from the rudiments of the world, why, as though living in the world, do ye subject yourselves to [them] (Col 2:20).

I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I that live, but Christ lives in me: and that life which I now live in the flesh I live in faith, the faith which is in the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself up for me (Gal 2:20).

…having been buried with him in baptism, wherein you were also raised with him through faith in the working of God, who raised him from the dead. And you, being dead through your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, you, I say, did he make alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses (Col 2:12-13).
 
Dene Ward

After my herb bed gave me fits one year, Keith spent some time completely digging it out and replacing the dirt with potting soil and composted manure.  That was $90 worth of dirt!  That means I am spending a lot more time, and even more money, caring for it so the original costs won’t be wasted.
            I have gone to a real nursery to find plants, larger and more established (and more expensive) than the discount store 99 cent pots.  I have dug trenches for some scalloped stone borders to help keep the encroaching lily bed out of it, and to dissuade any critters that might hide beneath the shed behind the bed from using it as a back door.
            I water it every day, and fertilize it every other week.  I pull out anything that somehow blows in and seeds itself in my precious black soil. 
            I have seedlings planted to finish the bed, varieties of herbs that are difficult to find as plants, which I had to carry in and out of the house time and time again due to the fluctuating spring temperatures.  Then they were transplanted into ever-increasing sized cups as they outgrew their tiny seed sponges, before finally reaching their permanent home in the herb garden bed. 
            I have invested so much time, energy, and money into this herb garden that I am not about to let it die.
            Why is it that we will work ourselves silly because of a monetary investment, while at the same time neglecting other things much more important to our lives?
            How about your marriage?  I say to every young couple I know, “Marriage is a high maintenance relationship.”  Right now, they think they will always be this close, always share every joy and every care.  They think there will never come a time when she wonders if he still loves her, or he wonders if she cares at all about the problems he must deal with at work.
            Life gets in the way.  If you want to stay as close as you are during that honeymoon phase, you have to tend your little garden.  Fix his favorite meal.  Send her flowers.  Put a love note in his lunchbox.  Take out the garbage without being asked.  Find a babysitter and go out on a date.  Just sit down after the kids are in bed--make them go to bed, people--and talk to each other.  And listen!  Pray together.  Study together.  Worship together.  Laugh together.  Cry together.
            What about your relationship with God?  Do you think you can maintain a close relationship with someone you don’t know?  He gave you a whole book telling you who He is, 1 Cor 2:11-13.  How much time do you spend with it?  How often do you talk to Him?  How can He help you when you never ask?  How can you enjoy being in the presence of someone with whom you have nothing in common?  Disciples want nothing more than to become like their teachers, 1 Pet 2:21,22; 2 Pet 3:18.
            None of that comes without effort.  You must spend some time and energy, maybe even make a few sacrifices to cultivate your relationship with God.  When you have invested nothing, it means nothing to you, and it shows. 
            Spend some time today improving your marriage, tending to your family relationships, cultivating your love and care for your brethren, and most of all, caring for your soul—pulling out the weeds, feeding it, nursing it along--so it will grow into a deeper, stronger, more fruitful relationship with your God.
 
Sow to yourselves in righteousness, reap according to kindness; break up your fallow ground; for it is time to seek Jehovah, till he come and rain righteousness upon you, Hosea 10:12.
 
Dene Ward

Everyone knows about Babe Ruth, but did you know that in his first year as a Major Leaguer—1914--he didn't hit a single home run?  Granted he only played in five games, but this is Babe Ruth we're talking about.  The second year he hit 4 home runs, including his first in the major leagues as part of the Boston Red Sox.  On May 6, 1915, in the third inning at the Polo Grounds against the New York Yankees, he hit a solid pop that made the entire crowd gasp as it sailed into the second tier of the right field grandstands.  As his career continued, he improved even more, setting the record for most home runs in a season (29 in 1919), and then breaking his own record twice.  Improvement should be expected in a professional and Babe Ruth certainly lived up to it.
            It happens in other areas as well.  We have always had a large garden, mainly to keep the grocery bill affordable.  An 80 by 80 foot plot has been planted in three different places through the years as we came to know our land and which areas of it were best suited for what.
            But the past few years, we have downsized.  Half the original garden, now 40 by 80, is plenty of room for the little the two of us need, and we still have extra to give away on Sunday mornings.  But since the other half was already tilled, it seemed a shame to waste it.  So that first year Keith planted an entire pound of wildflower seeds in it.  If that does not impress you, consider that those seed packets you buy in the store containing 25 seeds are less than a tenth of an ounce.  In fact, most of the weight, should you put them on a scale small enough to weigh ounces, is the paper packet itself.  So a pound of flower seeds is an enormous amount.
            As the spring and summer passed by, nothing came up.  What a disappointment.  Planting those seeds was a lot of work—tilling, sowing, rolling with a fifty gallon barrel, hauling hoses and setting up sprinklers to water it.  Too much work, Keith decided, to try it again. 
            Then one spring morning during the second year, he looked out on that side of the old garden space and saw what he had expected to see the year before.  Bright yellow fleabane in huge clumps, fire engine red, deep pink, and fuchsia phlox, orange gaillardia, yellow and maroon tickseed, and tall stems of black-eyed Susans and cone flowers.  It has been a delight all year long.  We just had to wait for it longer than expected.
            I planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase. (1Cor 3:6)
            Planting for the Lord is hard work.  It may be natural to want to see results immediately.  It may be understandable to become discouraged when we do not.  Stop whittling on God's end of the stick.  Our job is to plant.  Period.  God will give the increase in His own good time—maybe the second year, maybe not until the fifth or tenth or even the twentieth. 
            So keep sowing that seed.  You sow it with your words, with your offers to hold a Bible study, with the example you set when life goes awry as it will sooner or later for everyone.  You sow it on purpose and you sow accidentally when you do not realize someone else is watching and listening.  You sow it formally with written invitations and flyers and you sow when you just happen to think to invite out of the clear blue.  One of these days you might see a few results.  But then again, you may never see one.  That does not mean they won't happen in a heart years removed from the time you sowed, long after you are gone.  Even Babe Ruth had to wait a while.
            But when those seeds bloom, they will be some of the most beautiful blooms on the face of the earth—a heart where the gospel has taken root and formed a servant of the Lord.  Sow something today, on purpose, and think about my wildflowers as you do.  God will give that increase--sometime.  We must learn to stop counting and see it by faith.
 
For as the rain comes down and the snow from heaven, and returns not there, but waters the earth, and makes it bring forth and bud, and gives seed to the sower and bread to the eater; so shall my word be that goes forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it. (Isa 55:10-11)
 
Dene Ward

It’s spring and that means the tarps that have been protecting things for several months need to be laid out to dry, folded, and put up.  It’s spring and the plastic sheeting needs to be set up over the small, early, garden plot because we will have another frost or two.  It’s spring and that means the breezes are blowing and nothing will stay where you put it for any length of time at all.
            In late February Keith was out in the field laying out the tarps and plastic to dry in the sun, and trying to weigh down the corners with buckets and tools and anything else that came to hand.  He had managed three or four all by himself before dinner, and then I walked out with him afterward to see the freshly tilled garden and the early plot he had set out.  He bent to secure one corner of plastic just as the breeze increased and blew it right out of his hand.  I leaned down to help on my end only to have it, too, blown from my grasp.  He got hold of his corner as I chased mine around in a circle.  Finally we each had a corner and bent to secure them with handfuls of moisture-heavy garden dirt, only to have a particularly strong gust blow it free yet again.
            Three or four tries later we had the early plot covered and secured, the plastic stretched over a line three feet off the ground that ran down the middle to make a small greenhouse of sorts.  We were clothes-pinning the center where the “door” of our teepee met on either end.  Even that took a few tries followed by pinched faces and hunched shoulders waiting for the breeze to once again undo it all.  It held!
            “Whew!” he exclaimed.  “This kind takes prayer and fasting.” I looked at him with a rueful smile, and wondered how many prayers he must have prayed before I got there to help.
            You know, of course, that he was referring to Matt 17:21.  The disciples could not cast a demon out of a boy, but Jesus could.  For their lack of faith they received a stern rebuke, yet Jesus added that it was a particularly difficult demon to cast out.  Sometimes you will have to work harder than others, he seemed to mean by his comment about prayer and fasting.
            And occasionally overcoming a temptation is more difficult than at other times.  Sometimes it’s the circumstances.  If you are tired, or in pain, or grieving, or in any number of other situations, you may have a more difficult time passing the test.  Sometimes it’s the test itself.  Some things bother us more than others, pushing the buttons that most easily cause a reaction.  Sometimes it’s the “help.”  How many times has someone offered the advice to “calm down,” only to have that very advice cause the opposite reaction in spades?
            But notice this about that narrative in the gospels:  Jesus still expected those disciples to have mastered the demon and tossed it out.  Yes, it’s a hard one, he said, but you could have done it if you had enough faith.
            And so can we, if we are in the correct frame of mind.  There is always a way of escape.  It is never more than we can handle.  It doesn’t matter what the test is, what the circumstances are, or how many well- or even ill-meaning people get in the way. So here are a few suggestions that might help all of us.
            Know your hot buttons and avoid them.  How many times do the Proverbs call people fools who go blundering about their lives without even a thought where they might be headed?  How many other times are the “fools” the ones who go to difficult places with the arrogant notion they won’t be trapped like everyone else?
            If you cannot avoid these difficult situations, then prepare yourself before you get there.  If that means looking at yourself in the mirror and giving yourself a good talking to before you leave the house, then do it.  If it means praying before you leave—always a good idea—do it. 
            Then, don’t forget what you did the minute the door shuts behind you.  Nothing changes because your surroundings did.  If it means quoting scripture all the way through the situation itself, or singing hymns, do it.  Do whatever it takes.
            Don’t blame your failure on anyone else.  “I was doing fine until you came along and…” won’t change the bottom line.  You blew it.
            Do not give yourself an out of any kind.  “He deserved it [my tirade],” would cause you a lot of pain if it were said of you and God followed through on it—we all “deserve it” whatever “it” we might be talking about.  Don’t feel sorry for yourself because it was “hard.”  Do not ever excuse yourself if you failed.  You will never improve if you do.
          Know yourself.  Know what might take “prayer and fasting” to overcome.  God expects it of you, just as He did those apostles.  He expects you to succeed.  And you can.
 
Save yourself like a gazelle from the hand of the hunter, like a bird from the hand of the fowler. Prov 6:5
 
Dene Ward

“Those winter squash vines have grown a foot since that rain two days ago,” Keith mentioned as we drove into town one Tuesday morning.  “You can tell because the new growth is a different shade of green.”
            Indeed it is, I thought.  When spring comes, the new growth on the live oaks is a brighter shade I like to call “spring green.”  Even new growth on the roses is a different shade—a deep red.  New growth in plants is obvious.
            The New Testament is far too full of agricultural comparisons for me to pass this one by.  We are told ten times in the epistles to “grow” (auxano).  I may not be a Greek scholar, but I can run a program or look in a good, old-fashioned concordance for the same Greek word and where and how it’s used.  My question today is this:  is it just as obvious when we have new growth?  It ought to be.  So what will people see when I “grow” in this manner?
            2 Cor 9:10 tells me that the “fruits of my righteousness” will grow.  That certainly ought to be an obvious indicator.  If I am still struggling mightily, not just once in a while but constantly, to overcome the sins that held me captive before my conversion, then I am not growing as I ought to.  The time factor may be different for each one of us, but things should be improving.  I should become strong instead of fragile, someone who someday can help those who came from my identical circumstances.  If I cannot reach that point, something is amiss.
            Paul told the Colossians that their “knowledge” should be growing, 1:10.  When the same old chestnuts are tossed out in class, things that have been proven wrong by simple Bible study for years, I wonder if anyone is growing in knowledge.  Sitting on a pew will not do it.  It takes work, and it takes time.  It cannot be done in “14 minutes a day.”  I despair sometimes of the church ever reaching the point that it is once again known for its Bible knowledge as I see my Bible classes dwindling in number, and only frequented by older women.  When the new growth is only seen on the older vines, what does that say about our future?
            2 Cor 10:15 says my faith should be growing.  Do I show that with an ability to face trials in a more steady fashion than I used to?  Or do my words and actions, decrying God and questioning His love, show that I am no farther along than I was ten years ago?  Have I learned to accept His will and His ways, even when I do not understand them, or do I demand an explanation as if He were my child instead of the other way around?
            2 Pet 3:18 says we are to be growing in grace.  This one may be the most difficult one to assess, but think of this:  what does God’s grace excuse and pardon in you?  How patient was He when you were rebelling outright instead of just making ignorant and foolish mistakes? Now, how much grace do you grant to others who absent-mindedly get in your way, who have their own problems on their minds and are hardly aware of your presence?  Your neighbors, your colleagues, fellow shoppers, the driver in the car ahead of you—if you are not showing the grace of God to these in an obvious way you have not grown in grace as you should have.  If you are looking for a reason to sigh loudly, to complain, to blow that horn, instead of searching diligently for a way to offer grace as it was offered to you, you need to think again about your progress in the gospel.  I do too.
            All of us, no matter how long we have been Christians, should be showing growth.  In every area of our lives all of us should be sporting a different shade of green.
 
Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love. Eph 4:15-16
 
Dene Ward